Shadows
by OverlyLogicalPraxian
Summary: You can’t run from the demons that live in your mind (Eventual Prowl/Jazz
1. Beginnings

Prowl glared at the reports in front of him, as if doing so would change them. "It just makes no sense!"

Five bases hit, all with no casualties and everyone surviving. Three on the Decepticon side, two on his.

"Once is strange, twice is a coincidence, but five…."

He mentally reviewed what he knew of the mech-if they even were a mech, of course. Neutral, or at least equally divided in hatred for both sides. Mechs had reported flashes of silver, so that was most likely the mech's dominant color, which was odd given that most bots-all bots- changed their paint job to provide uniqueness. This situation just kept getting worse and worse.

Jazz crashed through the forest, every step thunderously loud in his ears, although they were barely audible to most mechs without the sensitive hearing that had often saved the saboteur's life. Once he judged himself safely away, he hid himself and waited for his bumbling 'Con pursuer to pass him without a second glance. He heard the mech coming, and looked around, noting with a frown that he was far too close to the Autobot base.

"Where are you, you little fragger?"

Ahm right here, can't ya see mah?

Jazz couldn't help but smirk at the poor Decepticon.

"Well now, who are you?"

Jazz felt a sudden jerk of fear, thinking that he'd been spotted, before realizing that the 'Con had been talking to somebot else entirely. Despite himself, Jazz slipped out of cover.

The 'Con stood, shoulder cannon pointed straight at a small yellow sparkling.

Primus, Ah thought they w' all gone.

"I know who you are. You're Bee something, Prime's little pet. Tell me, do you think he'll miss you? Because I sure won't!" (Oh god that's a terrible pun)

Kill a sparklin'? There's some lines e'en Ah won't cross.

The 'Con fired straight at the little mech, who fell to the ground, energon pooling around him. The 'Con moved forward for the kill shot, but Jazz got there first. Before the mech died, he got off a shot to Jazz's side, but he barely felt it. Pulling a med patch out, he ran to the sparkling's side.

"You're...Phantom?"

Jazz looked around, hearing Autobot voices coming nearer. "Hey, Ah need ya to jus' stay calm, yeah?"

The voices were coming closer, but if Jazz took pressure off the sparkling's wound, he was sure to die. "Frag frag frag."

When the Autobot patrol entered the clearing, none could believe what they saw. A Decepticon lay dead on the ground, and the saboteur that both sides had been searching for knelt beside Bumblebee, keeping pressure on a huge wound on the sparkling's side.

The saboteur looked up, glaring at all of them through an unaffiliated white visor.

"Any o' ya glitches a medic?"

Prime was honestly unsure of how to handle this situation, and a growing ache in his processor wasn't helping. The mech, designated Phantom for now, was stubbornly refusing to answer any questions. The only thing he'd given them was a "Ah don' kill sparklin's. No mattah what, Ah don'."

Beyond that, there was no real response to any questions asked, except jokes and flirtations. With a sigh he sent an order to his second in command, Prowl, to attempt an interrogation, although he doubted the mech would have much luck.

Jazz hummed idly to himself as he lay on the berth, bored and hungry. He perked up, however, when a tall, attractive Praxian, door wings held erect, entered the cell block.

"Well, who might ya be, darlin'?"

"My designation is Prowl. Might I enquire as to yours?"

"Ya, love, can call mah whatevra' ya want."

Jazz purred the words out, relishing the sight of Prowl's annoyance at the flirtation.

"Please. Your designation."

"Hmm, doncha think this is all movin' a bit fast? After all, Ah barely know ya, Prowler dear."

"My designation is Prowl."

"Ah know that, Prowlie."

Jazz smirked. This was too easy, winding the gorgeous mech up.

"Tell ya what. Ah'll answer ya question if ya'll answer one o' mahn."

"Fine", the mech bit out through gritted denta.

" You first."

"Ah'm Jazz, darlin'."

Prowl nodded. "Thank you."

"Ah haven' asked mah question yet."

A sigh.

"Th' sparklin'. Did he survive? Is he alrigh'?"

Prowl frowned, looking genuinely surprised.

"That's really your question?"

Jazz glares, anger filling his voice.

"Yes that's mah question. Do Ah get an answer or nah?"

"Yes, he survived. Bumblebee is expected to make a full recovery within two Earth weeks. Thanks to you, he's alive."

Jazz nodded, then went back to lying on the berth and humming, an effective dismissal. Annoyed, Prowl left.


	2. Backstories

Prowl's logical processor was on the verge of crashing and it was all Jazz's fault. The mech had managed to escape, before being caught and cornered, and Prowl still hadn't the foggiest idea how. Along with that, the mech was refusing his rations of energon, a practice that couldn't last long surely. Jazz had ignored any attempts at interrogation as well. The question for a question system had worked once, but Prowl saw the flaw in it as soon as Jazz asked, all false innocence, "So, where i' Primesy anyway, huh, Prowler?"

When Prowl had shut that down, Jazz simply refused to cooperate, flirting and smirking in response to everything he said. As he made his way down to the cell blocks, Prowl doubted today would go any different.

"Prowler! How ya doin'?"

Jazz lay on his side, facing the cell bars, every line of his sleek silver chassis on display.

Prowl responded tersely. "You know what my designation is, so why must you continue calling me that?"

Jazz shrugged. "Ya know what mah response is gonna be t' watevra' ya ask me, so why must ya continue askin' mah?"

Prowl glared, noting that at least the saboteur wasn't moving around as much today. Earlier, he'd been a ball of energy, but he was most likely suffering from lack of energon. "You'll have to drink some energon soon."

"Sure sure. Now, if ya don't mind, Ah'm tryin' to get some beauty recharge."

Frustrated, Prowl left.

As soon as he did, Jazz curled his body into a ball, letting out a moan. The wound from the 'Con had become infected, and the agony was getting harder and harder to hide. Even his regular conversation with Prowl had taken too much out of him. Jazz knew that within a few days, the infection would kill him, but he'd stopped caring once he'd been captured.After all, he knew that Shockwave would be in the Ark soon, a feeling deep in his spark. Fear filled him, along with a steadying resolve. He would not go back to that monster. He would rather die. He would die. Offlining his visor, Jazz waited for recharge to claim him.

Two days later, Jazz was delirious and muttering. Prowl had carried him to the medbay, and Ratchet was pumping him full of energon amid rapid cursing. Prowl watched as Ratchet pried open Jazz's visor to check if the virus had spread that far. "FRAGGIN-Prowl, get over here!"

When Prowl did, the horror on his face matched Ratchet's. Jazz's optics had been ripped out, the wires trimmed neatly back or rerouted. This wasn't a battlefield injury, this had been planned.

Ratchet, next to Prowl, growled out that whoever had done this had done it immediately after upgrading Jazz to his mech body, and suddenly the pieces clicked into place. "Meister…."

"Who the frag is Meister?"

Prowl ran as fast as he could to his quarters and back, carefully bringing with him a datapad.

Experiment 1794

Designation Meister

A recently sparked sparkling with a unusual viewing set up was kidnapped by Shockwave, the notoriously emotionless bot scientist rumored to be entirely sparkless. The sparkling's optics were ripped out but he (designated Meister) could still see through a visor. Meister was trained as a saboteur and when upgraded to a new frame, Meister's optics were again removed as par Shockwave's experiments. Both he and Soundwave, another of Shockwave's 'creations', share an affinity for music, as detailed in Shockwave's files. At some point, Meister escaped and is currently believed to be on Earth. No further information known.

Once Prowl had finished, both he and Ratchet looked down at the delirious saboteur. "And you're telling me that this glitch is Meister?"

Prowl shrugged. "My processors indicate a 78.142% chance of it, yes."

Ratchet remained unconvinced.

"Meister is a fragging ghost story to scare sparklings."

Prowl nodded. "And do you remember what we were calling Jazz before?"

"Yeah? Phantom."

"Exactly."

Ratchet began to pull Jazz out of recharge as Prowl watched.

Jazz had nightmares every time he recharged. Most of darkness and fear, his earliest memories played over and over. Worse were the dreams where everything he'd gone through had been the true dream, and he was right back where he started, a Pit of pain and despair. But worst of all? The dreams where he knew he was dreaming but was unable to leave.

"Did you really think you could escape me, Meister?"

Shockwave stood there, watching Jazz.

"Ah am not Meister! Mah designation is Jazz!"

"I was never sure where that speech defect came from. I tried so hard to eradicate it."

"Don't touch mah, ya fraggin' Pit-spawn!"

Shockwave tilted his head, no emotion showing on his blank face.

"Always a failure, Meister."

"Don't call meh Meister!"

Jazz jerked up, but he was caught by something. Bright lights blinded him, and pain was exploding in his side.

He jerked and flailed, trying to get free.

"Hold the slagger down!"

Someone jabbed him with a syringe, and the world faded to black.


	3. Acceptance

Prowl looked at Ratchet, both of the mechs breathing hard.

"May I assume that is not normal?"

"Assume all you want, but we're still going to have to take him out of recharge, and I don't see you volunteering."

Prowl nodded. "I am going to inform Prime of this new development."

The mech left, door wings fluttering agitatedly.

Ratchet grumbled under his breath, annoyed and stressed.

With everything going on at the base, it was perhaps not surprising that the Decepticons chose that moment to attack. Explosions rocked the base, and all the mechs, including Ratchet ran outside to do battle.

Jazz jerked up, but he was caught by something. Bright lights blinded him, but when he calmed down, he realized where he was. A medbay, clean and organized.

BOOM

He flinched at the sound, before recognizing it. There was a battle on and Jazz was fragged if he was going to miss it. But, first, he had to get out of this medbay. There had been firewalls blocking access to his weapons since he'd been captured, but they were a matter of moments to slice through. Activating his weapons, he blasted his restraints to pieces and swung out of the berth. His side still hurt, but not all that much, and he'd been completely refueled. "Let's do this."

Jazz laughed as he scythed through Decepticons. Energon covered him, and none of it was his. He couldn't help but love battle, and he, due to a lifetime of training by Shockwave and Soundwave, was very, very good at it.

The battle was winding down, and Jazz wasn't looking forward to heading back to the brig. Shifting into alt mode, he zoomed away, music blaring from his radio. Everything was going fine right up to the point where he'd drove straight into Optimus Prime. The mech stood there, Prowl, along with other mechs he didn't recognize, flanking him.

Frag frag frag FRAG

"Hello there, gentlemechs! Might Ah have tha honor o' addressing Optimus Prime Rib himself?"

Prime stared at him for a second before refocusing, and despite the situation he was in, Jazz couldn't help but appreciate the fact that he'd actually rattled the Prime.

"Yes, indeed. I must extend my gratitude to you for fighting with us."

"Right right. Back to th' brig wi' meh, then?"

"Actually, no. I'd like to offer you a job."

Jazz goggled at the mech, and he wasn't the only one. Prime's officers, even Prowl, were all looking at the mech like he'd gone mad.

"An' if Ah say no, yah gonna blas' meh to th' Pit?"

Prime shook his head. "We would let you go. But that would be the end of our gratitude. Any further interactions with you, we would treat you the same as a Decepticon. I strongly hope you join us. In fact, if you wanted, Ratchet could even find optical replace-"

"No!", Jazz yelped.

"Ah'll join ya, but ya keep th' Hatchet away from meh!"

"Very well. We can discuss the details back on base."

Jazz put his pedes up on Prime's deck and smirked up at him.

"Sooo, whatcha wanna talk 'bout, Primesy?"

Prime sighed.

"I understand that you were known as Meister till the later stages of the war on Cybertron, where you were captured by Shockwave and experimented upon."

"Yeah? Its not zackly somethin' Ah like t' talk 'bout."

Jazz had no idea where the mech had gotten the wrong idea, but he wasn't about to correct him.

"That is fine. However, I must ask you to respect Ratchet, despite your understandable dislike of medics and scientists."

Jazz sighed. "Fair nuff, mah mech. Do Ah get a private berth, or am Ah slummin' i' in th' barracks?"

"Space is limited, so for the time being, you will be lodging with a roommate, my second in command,Prowl."

Jazz opened his mouth to say something-he wasn't sure what, but Prowl beat him to the punch.

"Sir, I really must protest this course of action."

Prime nodded. "Although I respect your doubts, we simply have no empty berths, your quarters were intended for two, and there are no other mechs that would react well to be paired with Jazz, no offense meant."

Prowl's doorwings fluttered before stilling, drooping slightly.

"Yes sir. I'll show him there now."

"Good. And you both should get some recharge."


End file.
